Classic Poem

I won't oppose Mariar,
An' stomp around an' fume
About that brustlin' carpet
For our front settin'-room.
She's kep' her eend up allus,
I've never seed her shirk;
She oughter sheer th' pleasure,
Because she sheered the work.
So if she says a brustlin'
I'll hev to answer, " Yes, "
Tho' why she thinks 'em purty
Gits me, I must confess.

I'm awful feared that vain pride
Has ketched her in its mesh,
An' that she'll starve her sperrit
An' pomper up her flesh.
She'll want that carpet fetched home
Wuth mighty how-d'ye-do,
Perched high upon the waggin,
In all the neighbors' view;
An' when she gits it nailed down,
She'll shut the curtains tight,
Fur fear her precious brustlin'
'Ll ketch a ray o' light.

Oh, yes, I s'pose hereafter
That our front settin'-room
'Ll be a place o' grandeur,
O' mystery an' gloom;
Whenever I go in there
To look its wonders o'er
I'll have to pull my boots off
An' leave 'em at the door.
Or p'r'aps she'll lay down long trails
Of oilcloth everywhere,
Fer me to wander round on
Ef I should venture there.

Oh well, I hardly blame 'er:
She's had an uphill time
Sence we sot out together,
An' life was in its prime.
At first we felt so cheerful,
So full of vim and hope,
We thought there wa'n't no trouble
Wuth which we couldn't cope;
We thought we'd pay off easy
The morgige on the place, —
But thirty years wuth intrust
'Twas neck and neck a race.

She done the family washin',
She pounded, wrung an' rubbed;
She kep' the house in order,
She cleaned an' scoured and scrubbed;
She cooked for all the hired men
That worked upon the farm —
She's fed a dozen thrashers
Wuth a baby on 'er arm!
She milked an' done the churnin',
An' city people found
Her butter was the sweetest
For miles an' miles around.

She saved up all the meat scraps
And made 'em into soap,
An', tho' it took the skin off,
We washed us with the dope.
She done the family sewin'
An' made the children fine,
She kep' the boys in pants by
Rejuvenatin' mine.
She showed the children manners,
An' forced 'em to obey;
She watched their heads an' noses
An' learned em' how to pray.

An' now at last the morgige
Is paid up fair an' square,
I'll give Mariar credit
An' say she done her share;
She's earned her right to pleasures
That's differ'nt from my own,
So I'll take mine in restin',
While she goes in for tone.
An', anyhow, in this case
Opposin' wouldn't pay —
She's sot so on the carpet
She'll have it anyway.

I wonder 'f she remembers
How thirty years ago
I come each night to spark 'er
An' hoofed it through the snow?
That night I popped the question —
By gum, the picter still
Is hangin' round my mem'ry,
An' leave it never will!
She set before the fireplace,
Red-cheeked and roguish-eyed,
An' what a pile of old clothes
Was layin' by her side!

Says she: " Take off your coat, John,
I've work enough for you;
You know you're ornamental,
You must be useful, too. "
I sat down there beside 'er,
My heart beat like a drum;
Thinks I, the time to ask 'er
To-night has surely come.
I tore an' done the cuttin',
Mariar sewed the strips,
And not a sound was heard there
Except the rips and snips.

An' so 'twas Quaker meetin'
Tell purty nigh midnight;
I thought out twenty speeches,
But couldn't start 'em right,
Tell all at once, grown desprit,
I hitched my chair up nigher,
An' chokin' back my feelin's,
I blurted out " Mariar! "
She dropped her work so sudden,
An' turned so deep a red,
I knowed that I was in for't,
An' had to go ahead.

An' then, somehow or other
I made 'er understand
I thought she was the best gal
That nater ever planned.
An' 'fore I parted from 'er
We'd fixed things up all right
To work together allus
As we'd begun that night;
For, bein' sentimental,
We couldn't help but claim
That life an' makin' carpets
Was purty much the same.

'Tis us that does the tearin'
An' sewing up the rags,
But God does all the weavin',
With care that never lags;
An' when the carpet's finished,
An' when we look it o'er,
We'll find what we put in it —
Not one thing less nor more;
We'll find it striped and patterned
An' colored through an' through,
About as we've selected
The stripes of various hue.

I never hain't regretted
That night before the fire,
When I set tearin' rags an'
Jined fortunes with Mariar.
But talk about enjoyment!
I love to ponder o'er
Them first few years we spent wuth
That carpet on the floor.
I'll sneak up in the garrit,
An' think about the past —
The brustlin' carpet ery
Has struck our house at last!